Major Barbara

I happen to like this film. It is almost as good as "Pygmalion", the previous Shaw - Pascal collaboration, but that film had Leslie Howard in it as Higgins, and as co-director. Here, although Wendy Hiller is back, Howard is not involved and Rex Harrison is the romantic lead (and the philosophic lead is Robert Morley, as the man of wealth Andrew (or, as Shaw says, "St. Andrew") Undershaft). It has a grand cast supporting these three, including Mary Lohr, Deborah Kerr, Emlyn Wiliams, and Robert Newton (for once showing what a terrific actor he was when not drunk). The best parts are when Newton tries to be stoical and get knocked down to show he can take what he gives out to weaker types. He does get under the skin of Torin Thatcher (as a reformed boxing champ, named Todger Fairchild), only to have Thatcher humiliate him by forcing him to pray.

Shaw the comic dramatist is always a treat. Shaw the self-created man with all the answers is another problem. "Major Barbara" is a look at how money is made by ways that are spiritually appalling (armaments and booze for example), but which guarantee jobs and hope to people who can't get them from the world of religion. One probably can agree with this point of view, but the constant pushing of Undershaft's point of view - nobody ever trounces him in an argument - is annoying. He seems omnipotent in this play (as Shaw, no doubt, wanted him to be). I once suggested that it would have been delightful if after one of his speeches he had actually had coughed blood (to show he was mortal). But Shaw never would have done that to St. Andrew.

Yet he did do something within a decade after writing "Major Barbara" that was inconsistent. Shaw probably never willingly discussed it with anyone. Undershaft rules his armaments firm with a total control. He dictates to the government on policies he needs. The stockholders don't seem to exist. But in 1916 Shaw's optimism about dictatorial capitalists had faded. World War I shattered him a bit, and he wrote "Heartbreak House". In it is the character of "Boss Mangam", a powerful business tycoon like Undershaft, who proves to have feet of clay. It seems the great tycoon has to satisfy those stockholders or his empire is taken from him. The same, of course, has to be true of "St. Andrew" Undershaft as well. He probably is his largest shareholder, but he never says he is sole shareholder. Undershaft was quite content and pontifical in 1907 when he describes his religion of cannons and prosperity for all who listen to him. But that was peacetime. Somehow, in 1916, "St. Andrew" would probably have found it harder to be as glib about his doctrines as he had been.

"Major Barbara (1941: **1/2). A lot of talent has gone into this film version of Shaw's play about a Salvation Army lass who is disillusioned when her Mission accepts a fat check from her father, a wealthy munitions manufacturer of wartime supplies. I happened to have the play on hand and referred back to it as I wasn't sure Shaw's meanings survived the rather tedious verbosity of the movie, which sags despite a great cast (Wendy Hiller, Rex Harrison, Robert Morley, etc.). Shaw seems to be saying that when religion and capitalism fight it out, capitalism will always win as it provides jobs and shelter for the poor, whereas all religion can do is to concentrate on saving their souls. To Shaw, a man's soul is best saved when his belly is full and his future is secured. Ultimately, the girl decides it's better to labor in her father's vast factory, where she can save souls while working within the system. I believe Shaw was something of a Utopian Socialist. He called this play a "Discussion in Four Acts" and that's pretty much what the movie seemed to be.

One of my all-time favorite films, "Major Barbara" is a cinematic Shavian gem that stands alongside the original "Pygmalion", "Caesar and Cleopatra" and "The Devil's Disciple". Many viewers regard this as a rather verbose comedy-drama but then, as with Plato, dialogue was always what Shaw was all about. And what dialogue! There are more fireworks in ten minutes of "Major Barbara" then can be found in entire movies made nowadays, and without a single explosion or car chase! But then, like all Shaw dramas, this is a story about ideas, not about action.

Although Major Barbara (Windy Hiller) is the title character, the real center of the story is her father, munitions tycoon Andrew Undershaft, played brilliantly by a fairly young, and uncharacteristically lean, Robert Morely. It is he who really moves the progress of the story, just as he has controlled the courses of the lives of his family in absentia for the past twenty years without their even being aware of it. As Barbara smugly repudiates his attempts to contribute his tainted money to save her Salvation Army mission, he ironically reminds her fiancée (and the audience) that she has actually accepted a great deal of it already. In fact, she has been living off his tainted money all her life. Tricked out with a Mephistophelean beard (he is constantly referred to as the "Prince of Darkness, and even his name seems redolent of Hell), Undershaft tempts his daughter and prospective son-in-law to abrogate their life in the Salvation Army for his life in the munitions business.

Undershaft proposes to spend a day in Barbara's Salvation Army mission if she'll agree to spend a day at his munitions works. She agrees because, in her religious zeal, she's convinced she can convert her father. The worldly Undershaft, on the other hand, is equally sure that he can wean his daughter away from a life he perceives as a waste of her time and talent for one where he feels she can really make a difference.

Whether viewers perceive Shaw's story as cynical or realistic depends upon their point of view. Clearly Shaw took the latter view, at least at the time he wrote "Major Barbara". However, perhaps the most remarkable thing about "Major Barbara" is that a film like this should have been produced in Britain at all during the very darkest days of World War II. It is almost impossible to imagine a film such as this being produced in Hollywood at all, let alone during wartime!

George Bernard Shaw's 1905 satirical examination of salvation, "Major Barbara," is updated in this 1941 screen translation, but the story is basically the same. Munitions industrialist Andrew Undershaft, who has not seen his family in almost 20 years, returns to find that: (a) his son Stephen, at 25, has not discovered a suitable vocation; (b) his daughter Sarah has engaged herself to a pretentious but unoffending young fool, Charles Lomax; and (c) his other daughter Barbara has adopted the Salvation Army as a career toward moral self-fulfillment and social enlightenment.

The essential question in "Major Barbara" concerns the root of the Industrial Age's social ills. Barbara (well-acted by Wendy Hiller) would argue that the greed of whiskey manufacturers and the social rapacity of the ruling classes are the culprits. Her father, on the other hand, maintains that civilization's greatest sin is the existence of poverty. Further, he deplores the shameless glorification of the "meek, honest, and downtrodden" poor and the empty condescension that is offered to those who live in filth, disease, and constant hunger. And since Andrew Undershaft is the play's hero and Shaw's philosophical stand-in (Robert Morley, the actor who plays him, is even made up to resemble Shaw), there can be little doubt as to which character, father or daughter, will ultimately triumph.

Since Shaw was directly involved in this project, it's doubtful that purists will object to the fact that the film includes additional scenes that did not appear in the play's original text. A new prologue introduces us to Adolphus Cusins (Rex Harrison), the professor of Greek classics who is a dismal failure as a Hyde Park lecturer. When his speeches fail to hold or entrance an audience, he is advised by a sympathetic street patrolman (Stanley Holloway) to sample the "religious" speaking-circuit. Deciding he has nothing to lose, Adolphus heeds the policeman's advice, and while doing so, he encounters Barbara speaking to a crowd with incredibly religious fervor, and he is instantly smitten. From there, the movie segues into Shaw's original First Act.

Another important addition is the mock religious conversion of the drunken Bill Walker by wrestler-turned-Salvation-Army-sergeant Todger Fairmile, a scene only described in Shaw's original transcript. Robert Newton, a very fine actor who was especially memorable in Hitchcock's "Jamaica Inn" (1939), here plays Walker as an unbridled, unapologetic savage of a bully. His profane dismissals of the aged Miss Mitchens and the quickness of his physical abuse of the docile Army volunteer Jenny Hill provide the film's most shocking moments. But Walker's more lethal ammunition is used in his verbal taunting of Barbara ("What price Salvation, now?") after her disillusionment with and ultimate resignation from the Army of Good Samaritans. So deep is her despair that she almost commits suicide.

Her abandonment of the Army occurs after her superior accepts a large gift of money in the form of a check signed by her own father. Barbara insists that the money is tainted, that its blood money, gleaned from her father with the sweat of his underpaid workers and by the misery suffered by the victims of Undershaft's armaments industry. However, when reluctantly following up on her father's invitation to visit his munitions plant, she discovers that Undershaft's company town is a working-man's suburban paradise of modern architecture and schools and churches; and she then understands that it is not her father who drives the hellish multimillion-dollar business that makes this Eden possible. It drives him. And the film's concluding shot of Cusins, Walker, and Barbara, marching arm-in-arm with the rest of Undershaft's proletariat, is a celebration of the playwright's ironic vision.

Shaw is primarily enjoyed for the intelligent wit of his dialogue, but he had a serious purpose here. As the playwright himself reflected in 1906, a year after the play's premiere, "Undershaft...is simply a man who, having grasped the fact that poverty is a crime, knows that when society offered him the alternative of poverty or a lucrative trade in death and destruction, it offered him (a choice) between energetic enterprise and cowardly infamy."

Gabriel Pascal produced and directed – adequately. Here, his style is very understated and completely serviceable to the film's source. The scenes are paced briskly, even by modern standards. And the casting is superb, particularly Emlyn Williams's two-faced cynic/beggar, Snobby Price (the name says it all); Deborah Kerr is an affecting Jenny Hill (she obtained this film role by reciting the Lord's Prayer for producer Pascal); Torin Thatcher is in fine comic form as Todger Fairmile; and Marie Lohr manages to quietly hit all the right notes as Undershaft's priggish wife, Lady Britomart.

Love Wendy Hiller. Robert Morley could not have been much older than his early thirties!

This film is an extraordinary historical document! I haven't seen its political philosophy expressed or epitomized anywhere so well as in the movie's final act. The fact that it was filmed in London during The Blitz bombing of 1940 helps provide the production with the behind the scenes gravity or, as Robert Morley's character says , the "anxiety" to make its ideological sentiments, which could easily ring hollow, seem credible. In fact, somehow the movie's Fabian Democratic Socialism manages to surpass even Ayn Rand in its view of man as the measure of all things, thanks to the cagey implication that technological "progress" is the fulfillment of Christian ethics and that the elite are our saviors. "You may be a devil, but sometimes God speaks through you."

This and HG Wells' Things to Come are like comedic and tragic bookends for the Utopian vision of technology as Heaven on Earth, of the industrialist as saint. Here, like a freshly minted coin, before it was cynical or retro, before the appearance of Its antipode, the cinematic Dystopian Hells of the second part of the Twentieth Century, we see the vision of "modernism" in all its glory. Heaven is the "Future" and a secular Holy city of Jerusalem descends from Heaven as the modern industrialized city. This vision of a socialist utopia ruled by an enlightened elite has played a bigger role in our history than is generally acknowledged. It is not acknowledged because the system was successfully implemented, after which it was inconvenient to talk about its existence. Particularly because it was necessary to sustain a false narrative to "steer the 'democracy' from behind the scenes". Predictably this has became leading by deception. This need for deception may have been may anticipated by Fabian social architects like George Bernard Shaw and H.G. Wells as a necessary evil. I would guess that the way such systemic lying leads to corruption may not have been part of the ideology.

Did our self-appointed elite "fallen angels" get lost somewhere along the way and became drunk with unprecedented power and, rather than thinking "God speaks" through them, get seduced into deifying themselves? Or were they themselves manipulated all along by others who had always deified themselves? I'm sure some of our current leaders still believe in this vision, the ones who are not gangsters, Satanists, or both.

To his credit Brad Byrd took a stab at addressing this situation in Tomorrowland.